The Bloody Quarrel (The Complete Edition) (30 page)

The guards were but twenty paces away when they dragged the bow around to face them and she smashed the lever with the mallet once again. The bow was pointing downwards after their attempt at the mob on the docks but there was no time to raise it. And no need, either. The guards were so close the missile barely had time to drop. It took out the legs of the first two guards, bounced off the stone and knocked down another three of them, bringing the whole pile of them down in a heap. Most were unwounded but the two who had their legs ripped off were doing enough screaming for all of them. Bridgit smashed at the lever again, this time from the side, splintering the wood.

“Come on, before they get up!” she cried.

Dermot needed no further encouragement and followed her back along the wall, to where the other men were still fruitlessly trying to cut their way through the thick bowstrings.

“Smash the lever! We just need a little time to get away!” Bridgit shouted at them. She had no breath for any more and every muscle seemed to be aching after her exertions. But she willed herself to go on. They had come so far: she would not fail now.

A few blows with the mallets and the loosing lever was broken on the other three bows. No doubt they could fix that in a few turns of the hourglass but that was all they needed.

“Back to the ship,” she puffed but, as they turned to run back around, saw that the mob had reformed down on the docks. Worse, there appeared to be guards rushing to join them.

Bridgit was pleased to see the older children were clustered by the stern of the ship, sending slingshots whistling down at anyone who came close. But she was less pleased to see their way to the ship was now blocked.

“Down there. We need to swim for it,” she said firmly. She did not like that idea, for it had been several summers since she had swum more than a few strokes. She did not like Kerrin going in the cold water and maybe catching a chill, so had only ventured to the beach on the hottest summer days – of which there were few in Gaelland.

On the ship, sails hung limply from masts, but men were packed into a pair of rowboats and beginning to tow the ship away from the jetty. She judged their progress, not wanting to spend any more time in the filthy harbor water than necessary, when Dermot grabbed her arm.

“We need to go – those guards are back on their feet,” he warned.

Perhaps only half a dozen guards were sufficiently unharmed to want to tackle them but they were trained, armed and angry and her men, when all was said and done, were powered by fear and desperation rather than skill.

“Down the ladders. The ship will see us and pick us up,” she said, more in hope than certainty.

She pulled off the robe she was wearing and kicked off her shoes as well, until she was wearing just a short cotton shift that came down to her mid-thighs.

“Do you think you’ll be able to swim in heavy cloth?” she demanded of the men, when they stared at her. “Drop your swords and hurry!”

Wooden ladders were attached to the edge of the harbor wall and she led the way down, trying not to slip on the lower rungs, which had weed growing from them. She glanced over her shoulder to see the rowboats were moving closer, the ship picking up a little speed behind them. But it was so big that, even with men straining at the oars, it did not move any faster than a gentle walking pace.

She let go and clumsily splashed out, shuddering at the rancid smell of the water. Behind her, the other men jumped in, Dermot the last one down the ladder. He dived out from the ladder as the Kottermani guards arrived, shouting curses after them.

Bridgit floated on her back, watching them argue furiously with each other. After a few moments one of them pulled the others away and they raced back along the harbor wall. Bridgit watched them go with relief. If they hoped to turn the giant bows on their stolen ship they would discover an unpleasant surprise, she thought with satisfaction.

She swam slowly out to meet the rowboats, which did indeed alter course to pick them up. Her arms felt like they were about to fall off, while her legs had almost no strength as she kicked towards them. Every breath was a shuddering gasp and she had to fight not to suck in a mouthful of harbor water each time. For an instant she felt like closing her eyes and slipping below the surface, forgetting about all the pain and the struggle, but she saw Fallon and Kerrin in her mind’s eye and she struck out with renewed strength and energy.

Strong hands reached for her and dragged her over into the rowboat. She did not care that her soaked cotton shift clung to her or that most of her legs were showing. Five of the men who had broken the bows with her were also pulled into her boat, while Dermot and one other were pulled into the second boat. It made the rowboats crowded but it meant there were more hands on the oars as they hauled the huge ship along.

Bridgit felt herself shiver, despite the late afternoon sun, and wiped her face dry, looking around. Over on the wharves, angry Kottermanis were shouting and waving angrily at them but they could do nothing. Despite the effort it was taking, the rowboats were making progress and the mob on the docks seemed to have no idea how to stop them.

The men were hauling away at the oars but they were out of time and she began to call the stroke for them. After a few moments they were together and moving better through the water, the rope tight between them and the ship they were towing.

“Keep going – we’re nearly away!” Bridgit encouraged.

And it was true. It was almost hard to believe but no ships were stirring to cut them off. She watched the handful of Kottermani guards up on the harbor wall attempt to hurl one of the giant crossbow bolts at the rowboats but its size and weight defeated them and it barely made it over the wall before splashing into the water.

Now there was a tantalizing glimpse of open water and the sea ahead and the men in the boats responded, pulling with the last of their strength to bring the big ship around the edge of the harbor wall and give it a chance to spread its sails.

Then Bridgit saw the surviving Kottermani guards at the end of the wall, where they could look down onto the ship as it went past. And they all had bows in their hands. There were only six of them but at the speed the ship and rowboats were moving, the guards would have plenty of time to bombard the rowboats, with the men packed tight in.

Before she could yell out a warning the guards loosed, aiming at the other boat. Arrows splashed into the water, sunk into the wooden sides – and into flesh. A pair of men were shouting in pain but, with the extras they had taken on, there were still enough for the oars. Bridgit was torn between horror at her people being forced to sit there and relief that it was not her boat.

She glared at the guards, wishing she had thought to loose more of the giant bows at them. They were drawing back their bows, taking their time about it, no doubt hoping to cause more damage this time around. Next moment they were ducking for cover and dropping their bows, holding their hands over their heads.

For a moment she could not understand it but then glanced back at the ship and saw her slingers lining the rail, hurling stones at the bowmen. They were too far away for the stones to do more than sting but it was certainly enough to disrupt them. Bridgit wanted to cheer them, then saw the angry bowmen select new arrows and change their aim.

“Get down!” she shouted at the ship as the bowmen loosed at them.

From this angle she could not see if any were hit but the bowmen were ignoring the rowboats to pepper the ship’s deck with arrows.

She turned back to the rowers. “Pull! Give it everything you have! We are almost there!”

The waves began to crash against the front of the rowboats as they dragged the ship out past the harbor wall, where the sea breeze made its sails suddenly billow. Suddenly the tow-rope went slack as the big craft picked up speed, surging forwards to overtake the rowboats.

“Down oars! Get ready!” Bridgit warned them. “Swing by on the far side!”

Both rowboats pulled across to one side, giving the ship a straight path out to sea. Whoever was steering the ship – Bridgit assumed it was Ahearn – brought them close, so close that it almost brushed past the rowboats, and ropes were thrown down to them.

“You go first,” Bridgit said.

“No, you get on board,” she was told.

The ship was moving faster now and there was no time to argue, so she grabbed the rope in both hands and was hauled rapidly upwards until hands helped her over the side of the ship. Just like the times when she had slipped out of the house to explore the city in secret, lines of women and the older children were walking back across the deck to haul the rowers upwards. They had six ropes going and they were bringing them over the side in rapid succession.

Nola and Riona rushed over to help her up, Nola offering her a fresh robe. She embraced them both before she pulled it on.

“We have done it,” she whispered. “All the plans we made in the darkness, they all worked!”

“You did it,” Riona said. “This was you getting us here!”

As they pulled apart, the last of the men came on board and fresh sails were unfurled, so it picked up even more speed.

Bridgit was the first to break their embrace. “Were many of the children hit by those archers?” she asked worriedly.

Nola smiled and shook her head. “We got them down below the rail as soon as we saw those archers aiming at us. But it worked – they left you alone!”

“But we still have wounded,” Bridgit said, looking at a line of men, those injured in the little fight by the docks, as well as the two new ones nursing arrow wounds.

“Get the children together. We need them to find as many cobwebs in this ship as they can. We have wounded men and nothing packs out a wound better than cobwebs. Ship this size, there has to be plenty of webs,” she told Riona. “Wash the wounds with saltwater, then seal them with cobwebs and honey. We’ll have to hope they can last until we get back to Gaelland and a priest who can help them. And Nola, get a few of the other women we know and start making a tally of supplies. We have at least half a moon at sea. We need to ration out the food so it lasts.”

She had barely finished speaking when there was a huge cheer from the massed people on the deck. Those who had families embraced their husbands and wives and children, those without just hugged each other and cheered their freedom, some of them even performing a little dance on the deck. Bridgit found herself the center of attention and had people bowing to her, patting her on the back and even kissing her hand.

“Three cheers for Bridgit, our leader and savior!” someone shouted and then they were all cheering her. That was more than uncomfortable and she smiled and nodded and waved but made her way up towards the stern. She could see Ahearn was at the wheel there and she wanted to thank him as well. After all, he was the one who had got the ship out of harbor and who would be guiding them home.

She made her way up to the steering platform, thinking that the last time she had done this was to speak to Prince Kemal. What would he be thinking now? She smiled to herself at that and waved to Ahearn.

He did not acknowledge her and she frowned. There was nothing in front of them and surely he could spare a moment. Then she was hurrying to his side as he slumped down from the wheel.

“Help here! I need help!” Bridgit bellowed as she tried to lift Ahearn.

He was too heavy but she was able to lay him on his side – and reveal the arrow that was sunk deep into his back.

He looked up at her but his skin was pale and his grip weak as he reached up to grab her arm.

“Sail north and east,” he whispered, then his eyes rolled up and closed.

“Help! Now!” Bridgit roared, fear racing through her. Without Ahearn, how were they going to get home?

Kemal looked out across the sea as the stolen ship began to slip over the horizon and smiled to himself in satisfaction.

“High one, why did you let them escape?” the girl Ely asked.

He did not bother to reply. He had done more than let them escape. He had helped them escape. By his orders the ship that patrolled the entrance to the harbor had been sent down the coast, while almost all the guards had been removed from the way to the harbor and from the harbor itself. He was disappointed to see the guards set to watch the house had been killed, almost to a man, but it would merely add to the reports of an escape, make them more believable when read back in the capital, Kankara.

He ignored Ely and turned to Erdogan. “How many soldiers have been gathered at my orders?” he asked.

“A little over two thousand, high one,” Erdogan replied. “We have eight ships ready to load them now.”

“Then do so. I want to sail within two turns of the hourglass. I want to catch them by dawn,” he said. All would think he planned to catch and destroy them. Instead he would keep watch over them, make sure they were going in the right direction and that nothing went wrong. And, when they arrived back in Gaelland, he and Fallon would face each other once more, each holding the other’s family. And he would take his revenge.

“What of the slave master Gokmen? Should he be sent to your father?” Erdogan continued.

Kemal broke away from his thoughts of making Fallon grovel. “No, bring him along, as well as any of the surviving guards who tried to stop the Gaelish, along with all the officers I spoke to earlier,” he said. Bringing them along would give him some extra men, men who would depend on him to protect them from the fury of the Emperor. And, of course, with them on board they could not spread any tales of how the Crown Prince had sent guards in all different directions, anywhere but the one place where they could have stopped the attempted escape.

“And make sure there is more than enough food on board for both the trip there and back. Who knows what the future will bring?” he said.

Fallon cursed himself as he led the way back down the stairs to the King’s secret Fearpriest lair. How could he have forgotten the third way out of there? He had sent men around to Swane’s rooms, with orders to smash down the doors and block the way out. Surely they would arrive in time to stop the foul Prince from escaping? Unless there was another way out along the way …

Behind him came more men, as well as Brendan dragging the semi-conscious King. He would go into a cell until they decided what to do with him.

That was a question right there. After all their discussions and plans and plots, this had happened out of the blue. All he had wanted to do was get Kerrin, Feray and her boys out of there safely. From there it had spiraled out of control and now he had the King in his hands. But what was the next step? The Kottermanis were coming back and Prince Kemal, just like Aidan, was not going to be in a forgiving mood. Yes, he had just saved Feray and the boys from a Fearpriest but he was sure Kemal was not going to be overcome with gratitude. He had no ideas for what was to come, beyond hoping Duchess Dina might have some answers once she had replied honestly to all his questions. He certainly didn’t trust himself to find the right path from here. Chasing after Prince Swane was almost a relief, a chance to put aside these worries.

The smell in the chamber was enough to make everyone choke and gasp. The stench of open bowels and blood was overtaken by the smell of roasted flesh, from where the Earl of Meinster was still cooking.

“Aroaril, look at that,” Brendan gasped, pointing out the Fearpriest, lying spread-eagled on the floor, his guts tangled over his legs.

“No time for him,” Fallon said grimly. Through the wafting smoke, he could see the door at the far end was open now. Whether his pursuers had battered it down or Swane had got it open did not matter. What counted was Swane had a way out. He prayed it would only take him as far as the men he had sent there. He had to get Swane, for poor dead Prince Cavan. It would finish things as well, although there was little to fear from Swane. After all, he had been his father’s puppet and his arrogance and stupidity had nearly brought Aidan’s plot undone. He was not the brains behind this.

The children in the cells shrank back against the walls as they came through, crying out in fear.

“Brendan, get those doors open,” Fallon ordered.

The big smith needed no second invitation and dropped the limp King Aidan onto the floor to use his hammer to smash the locks and open the doors. The children still cowered at the back, clutching each other. Fallon dropped down to one knee.

“You are free now,” he said gently. “We are here to take you back to your parents. You are safe now.”

“That’s what they say when they come for us,” a small voice said accusingly.

“Well, we are going to leave the doors open. Your parents are on their way here and you can stay here until they arrive or you can come with us and see the sun once more,” Fallon offered.

When none of them moved, he turned back to King Aidan.

“Your new room is ready, sire,” he said harshly.

Brendan used his hammer to open the filthiest cell he could see, then the King was unceremoniously dumped inside. Fallon picked Craddock and four more of his villagers to stand guard there. After what they had seen in the chamber, and the terrified children in the cells, Fallon knew they would not listen to the King demanding to be let out. Just to be on the safe side Aidan was bound and gagged before the door was wedged shut.

“Now for Swane,” Fallon said grimly.

He led the way back through the passageways, this time taking the second turning. It felt strange walking this way with armed men at his back, after stumbling through there with the children, just trying to get out.

He had never been down the second passageway and led the way cautiously but there was nothing until it ended in a solid wooden door, banded with iron.

Brendan stepped forwards without being asked and battered it until it sprang open. Fallon jumped through, shillelagh at the ready, to find he was in a richly appointed sitting room.

“These must be Swane’s,” he hissed. “So much for Kelty’s search that time.”

“He probably had a drink with Swane and laughed about us waiting outside,” Brendan agreed.

Fallon nodded. The guard captain had paid the penalty for that back in the chamber. He advanced through the rooms cautiously. It looked as though somebody had been through here recently, for clothes were strewn over the floor. Chests had also been opened and tipped out.

“Looks like someone was packing for a long trip,” Brendan said, obviously having noticed the same thing.

But there was nobody in the rooms. Fallon finally made his way to the door into Swane’s rooms, unlocked it and hauled it open – to see the angry faces of the men he had sent there.

“Nobody has been through here, have they?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

“Well, where is he?” Brendan asked.

“We’ll look everywhere,” Fallon said. “He cannot get far.”

*

Yet nobody had seen anyone leaving by any of the other exits. It was a mystery and Fallon’s disquiet was growing. He did not like the idea of Swane emerging from a hiding place under the castle at some time and wreaking his mischief. But he was running out of time to worry about it, because there were a hundred other things to deal with.

He had to send men off to secure the city gates and remove the guards on duty there. Most of his villagers had to do that, because he needed men he could trust there, although he also sent along groups of his best recruits with them, because he could not risk any trouble at the gates.

“People can come in but nobody is to leave,” he told them. “Not until we discover who else has sold their soul to Zorva. We know the Guilds are in this, as are some of the nobles. We must find the others.”

While they had found some of the men who had got out of the chamber bearing the marks of Fallon’s shillelagh, others had scattered. Then there were Archbishop Kynan and the King’s Wizard Finbar. Search parties had not found either of them at their homes.

The good news was that Devlin and the others had been found alive and brought back to the castle, battered and bruised.

“I’m sorry, Fallon. They were onto us before we realized they were there. They took out our men at the entrance and then rushed in,” Devlin said sadly, his left eye almost swollen shut and his lips split from a shillelagh blow.

Fallon gripped his friend’s shoulder. “It is my fault,” he said. “I must have led them to you. You have had no other visitors. At least you know that Kelty and the others who did that are burning in Zorva’s pits now.”

“I’d still have liked to throw them in there myself,” Devlin said.

“Rest, my friend. I am going to make you a busy man very soon.”

Duchess Dina had sent a message that she was staying in her townhouse until she could be sure it was safe to travel the streets. Fallon cursed at that. The streets were quiet, with people knowing that something had happened at the castle but unsure what. For now, Fallon did not want to tell them anything. He hoped the sight of his recruits would reassure them, for the city had become used to seeing them every day. More had to be sent to help bring Dina to the castle. He could see that she would be concerned for her safety. Now that the worship of Zorva had been revealed, Aidan’s supporters had nothing to lose. He needed her advice but, more importantly, he needed to know she could be trusted. After all, he had just been forced to do what she wanted – depose Aidan and turn to her. Rosaleen needed to be sent, with a company of men, with very careful instructions.

All of the King’s surviving guards were being brought back to the castle, where Bran and Casey were talking with Devlin and deciding what to do with them. The ones who were known to be cronies of Kelty were locked in store rooms, while those who were simply doing their job were asked to hand over their weapons and armor and sent home, if Rosaleen ruled they had not sold themselves to Zorva.

The parents of the missing children had been found and brought to the castle, where they were reunited with the surviving children. That had been hard. Each couple had not known whether their child was alive or not and while there were many tearful reunions as terrified children fell back into their parents’ arms, nearly half of the rejoicing adults had to be given the devastating news their child had been sacrificed to Zorva.

A group of Kelty’s guards was made to bring up the rotting bodies from where the Fearpriest had dumped them and over which Fallon and Feray had scrambled to safety. It was not just children but men and women as well. Worst of all, Prince Cavan’s body was among them. The bodies were lain carefully out in the square and weeping friends and family came to collect them. All had the same jagged wound just under their ribs, where they had been ripped open and their hearts torn out. Rosaleen tried to comfort the horrified people but there was nothing anyone could say to take away the anguish.

“But why Cavan? He was already dead,” Fallon asked.

Rosaleen shrugged in despair. “Maybe there was still power in his heart, for he was related to both Aidan and Swane. Still, at least we can give him a proper burial.”

Fallon nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Seeing his dead prince only brought home yet again his part in all this. But there was no time to brood over it. Rosaleen had to be sent out to test the Duchess, and he had a hundred tasks to complete.

When the parents learned Aidan was not only behind it but in one of the cells, only the looming presence of Brendan stopped them dragging the King out and killing him right then and there. Fallon did entertain the thought things might be easier if he let them but, despite all Aidan had done, he hesitated. At the very least, it had to be done in the open. All Berry had to see and know what Aidan had done before he received the punishment he so justly deserved.

Yet what could they do to the King? Under Gaelish law, the King’s word was automatically truth – and in any case every magistrate had been appointed by the King. They could hardly make a ruling on the man. He was pondering what to do with Aidan when Brendan tapped him on the shoulder.

“You need to come and look at this,” the smith said ominously.

Fallon followed his friend immediately but, instead of heading upstairs, Brendan led the way into the Fearpriest’s chamber. A group of recruits was dragging the bodies of the men Fallon had killed out of there so they would not rot and, more importantly, so all could see the Fearpriest was dead.

“What did you do to the Fearpriest?” Brendan asked.

“Gutted him,” Fallon replied, mystified.

“Then it wasn’t you that did this then?” Brendan pointed out the body.

Fallon had last seen the Fearpriest trying to hold his intestines inside him. Now it looked as though they had all been pulled out.

“We found the rest of him over here.” Brendan walked across the chamber, to the darkest corner, where a pile of guts was strewn around.

“Weren’t there a couple of bodies there?” Fallon asked, trying to remember what the chamber had looked like when they had gone through it earlier. His memory of that brutal fight was hazy but he did not think he had not killed anyone this far over.

“Aye. So either the dead are walking again or maybe Swane and his man lay here, draped their mate’s guts over themselves until we had gone out the other way and then ran off in a different direction.”

Fallon cursed. “They would have to have balls of iron to try something like that!”

Brendan shrugged. “Or just be very cunning. It seems to have worked for them.”

Fallon rubbed his face. “Right. Follow me. Let’s see what we can find.”

The throne room still had two score of Aidan’s erstwhile guards being checked and watched by his men, so he did not bother going through there. Instead he climbed the stairs to the King’s rooms. With Brendan at his shoulder he sprang through the door – but the room was empty. Yet it was not without evidence.

“Look at this.” He saw the blood-spattered and dirty clothes instantly, left beside the fire, as was an empty sack.

“They changed in here and walked out,” Brendan said.

“How much of a lead would they have?” Fallon growled as they raced out of the rooms.

But the men watching the gate only had bad news for them.

“There’s been plenty of guards and servants leaving here and going home,” they admitted.

“Did one of them look like the prince?” Fallon demanded.

“Sir, what does the prince look like?”

Fallon forced a smile to his face. “Don’t let anyone else in or out and if they complain, send for me.”

“Where will you be, sir?”

“I have no idea,” Fallon admitted. “Just keep searching until you find me.”

*

“Highness, we need to get out of Berry. Fallon will have men looking for us. He will try to turn the whole city against you,” Ryan said smoothly.

Swane scowled at the thought. How could it all have gone so wrong? His father had been annoying at the best of times but he was no fool. He had been watching Fallon carefully, letting the man think he was safe but always ready to act. Once the recruits were trained to the point where they could fight and Fallon was no longer vital, he had moved, grabbing Fallon’s son and the Kottermanis and giving Fallon a simple choice, join or die. And once you had pledged your soul to Zorva there was no return. If he had refused, or hesitated, he should have died. The man should have had no weapons and there had been more than twenty initiates in that room – more than enough to handle him. And yet somehow he had got a knife in there and turned the place into a charnel house. Now Father was dead, or at least in Fallon’s hands, and he was on the run. It was ridiculous! He shivered at the memory of lying still in the chamber while Fallon and his foul friends had dragged Father through there. He had wanted to run right away but Ryan had insisted this was the best way. Of course he went along with the plan, although it had taken all his control to lie still and pretend to be dead, Brother Nahuatl’s blood and guts plastered all over him. He could still smell it now, even though he had cleaned off and changed.